Wishing Our Troubles Away
by KLMeri
Summary: Leonard is confounded by his feelings. Running from them doesn't help much at all. In fact, it lands him in more trouble than he bargained for. pre-K/S/M - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Part One**

"Maybe we should stop."

Spock turns his head to observe the man seated at the opposite end of the long table. This is not the first time McCoy has interrupted the peaceful silence of the laboratory to make a casual remark that seems to have no bearing upon the experiment on which they are working. Before, Spock waited to see what else the doctor would say to illuminate the meaning of the off-topic thought.

Now he realizes waiting is, perhaps, not the reaction McCoy requires in order to speak further on the matter.

"Doctor," Spock says, "you must be more specific. Are the results of your work not satisfactory? Do you wish to take a period of rest?"

McCoy lifts his bowed head and gives Spock a strange look. "I wasn't talking about _this_." He makes an abrupt gesture at the cultures, centrifuge and Spock's careful notations on a wall chart.

Spock powers off the computer screen in front of him, signaling that he is willing to give his full attention to the doctor. "Then to what do you refer?"

Leonard's fingers play with a small stylus as his mouth curves downward. His eyes skip from Spock to the closed lab door and back. "How many arguments would you say we have in a week?"

Oh, he knows that number very well. It fluctuates only minutely over the course of time, unless tension is at its peak across the starship as a whole. "The average is quite remarkable."

"Doesn't it bother you?"

"My work performance remains unaffected."

"Well, we wouldn't want that, now would we!" The doctor draws in a quick breath and adds hastily, sheepishly, "Sorry. Guess I'm not doing my part to lower the average."

"Indeed."

The doctor's expression turns bland. "They say frequent fighting is a symptom of a larger problem."

The ubiquitous 'they' always disturbs Spock. No one can explain precisely who 'they' is. He chooses to ignore the reference this time because the doctor's statement is intriguing. Does he mean that they do not work well together? That is not so, as evidenced by this very project their departments are jointly collaborating upon. Their progress is exceptional. In truth, Spock finds McCoy's scientific mind to be very similar to his own. It is only the emotionalism which...

"Spock?"

Spock realizes his silence might be misconstrued. "Yes, Dr. McCoy?"

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"You did not. I assume you have a theory on the nature of the 'larger problem'."

McCoy's eyes skirt away from him again. "I... I don't know. It's strange," murmurs the man. "I don't hate you."

That is rather pleasing news to Spock. He is surprised by how much it pleases him. His face shows none of these reactions. "Doctor, why is the matter troubling you at this time?"

"Jim," Leonard says, holding Spock's gaze. "I think it bothers him."

Spock feels himself straighten in his seat. "Please explain."

Leonard leans forward on his elbows, earnest in his speech. "It's not what you think, Spock. The Captain knows we don't disregard our conduct when it counts. He's not _disappointed_—well," McCoy's mouth twitches, "maybe that's not exactly the truth... he is disappointed."

Surprise gives way to alarm. He would never seek to disappoint his commanding officer, and especially not _Jim_, who despite appearances is deserving of only the most loyal officers. Jim is often a conundrum to Spock, but he is a natural leader, a man worth following to the far end of space, a friend...

It isn't until Leonard touches Spock's arm, just lightly, questioningly, that Spock becomes aware the man has moved from his place at the end of the table. The doctor withdraws the touch as soon as Spock responds.

"Hey," are the soft words, "you know Jim thinks you're the best First Officer in the 'Fleet. He isn't disappointed in you, Spock."

"I do not worry over such things, Doctor," Spock remarks with calm.

McCoy chuckles lowly. "Mm-hm. All right, if you say so. Listen, why don't we take that break now?"

"You may. I will remain here."

Spock might have imagined it but Leonard's voice is the one that sounds full of disappointment when he agrees and collects his tools to place inside the decontamination unit. Spock not quite watches the doctor's exit from the corners of his eyes, slightly disturbed by the thought that he has missed some nuance of behavior from McCoy. Then he returns to the task at hand and focuses on that instead.

* * *

"Bones!" Jim calls, spying his friend at one of the tables in the cafeteria.

The doctor lifts a hand in greeting and Jim takes it as an invitation to join him. He sits opposite of Leonard, stretching out his legs to get comfortable, and blows at the steam curling from his cup of coffee. McCoy's own cup is mostly full and looks cold, like he had forgotten about it.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"You'll have to give me a lot more than that," Bones retorts. His eyes are fixed elsewhere, to Jim's left.

Jim leans in and cranes his neck to the side, unrepentant about the nosiness because he's good at it. "Please tell me you're not brooding this early in the morning, Bones."

A familiar scowl appears. "Shut it, kid."

"Have you tried waking up on the opposite side of the bed?"

"You're not funny."

Jim grins. "I definitely am."

"In the head, maybe," mutters McCoy. After a put-upon sigh, he says more congenially, "How was your run?"

"Good." Jim takes a healthy swallow of coffee. "You should go with me sometime."

"I already see enough of this ship as it is."

"Aren't you the physician here? I thought the crew is supposed to keep in shape."

"No, _you're _supposed to exercise. Otherwise, you'll turn into a big ball of sugar and fat and, believe me, that will be very detrimental to your career, not just your health. Some crazy alien race will keep you as a squishy souvenir."

Jim rubs at his mouth to hide his smile.

Leonard's eyes finally land on Jim, and the doctor's expression softens to affection. Jim feels his heart rate kick up to a gallop, as if he were still trying to beat his best running record.

"Jim, can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," Jim replies immediately, meaning it.

Bones hesitates before lowering his voice. "What is it that you find so attractive about Spock?"

Jim has the misfortune of drinking coffee when Leonard asks this. After a long minute of his lungs hating him, he coughs out, "What?" McCoy stops smacking a hand against his back. Jim realizes at some point during his struggle to breathe Leonard switched to Jim's side of the table. He turns his head to look at Bones, repeating, "_What?_"

"Is it that shocking that I know?" the man next to Jim murmurs.

"No, I just—shit, way to warn a guy, Bones!"

Leonard removes his hand from where it had settled on Jim's shoulder, and Jim immediately regrets the loss. Afraid the doctor might leave altogether, he reaches out and touches the corner of McCoy's uniform sleeve.

Leonard is once again focused on something else, this time clearly a thought that is taking him far, far away. Jim likes it better when Bones is right beside him, so he clears his throat and tries his best to answer the question. "Spock is, I don't know, a challenge."

Leonard stirs, says, "That's what you said about Gaila at the Academy."

Jim smiles at the memory, the mention of her hurting him less as time goes on. "It's not the same, really. Gaila was fun."

Bones snorts. "Gaila was out of your league, Jim."

He gasps in mock outrage. "Are you saying she only used me for my body?"

Leonard shoves at Jim's shoulder. Jim cries, "Abuse! Abuse of the Captain!" Nobody in the room pays them any attention.

"You think too much of yourself, kid," Jim's friend says, planting his elbows on the table. "So what is it about the Vulcan? He's not _fun_, if that's your only criteria."

There are so many ways Jim could answer that. Mostly he just wants to tell Leonard that he's been a blind fool for a lot of years and the criterion is fairly simple. The person has to be amazing in his or her own way.

Bones is amazing.

The confession is on the tip of Jim's tongue. He chases it away with more coffee, only wincing slightly when he burns the roof of his mouth.

Cutting his eyes at his companion, Jim wants to know, "Is there a reason why you're asking?"

McCoy purses his mouth. "Can't I be curious? We are friends, Jim."

_That's the problem, _Kirk doesn't say. He points out, "You don't like Spock. I doubt you'd understand even if I tried explaining."

Something flashes through Bones's eyes. He begins to say heatedly "That's not—" but stops short.

Jim's curiosity is piqued. "Bones?"

"Forget it." The man stands up. "Just pretend I didn't ask, okay?"

Jim considers going after him, but he's known Leonard McCoy long enough to recognize how to handle this behavior. Let Bones have an hour or two to himself, just to shake off whatever is riding him, then Jim will have a better chance of digging for further information.

And dig he will.

Why is Leonard so interested in Spock all of a sudden?

* * *

"Maybe I am crazy," Leonard tells his reflection. The man in the mirror stares back at him in silence, and Leonard angrily swipes away the condensation on the glass. He finishes drying his hands and exits the bathroom.

What should it matter that Jim gets that glint in his eyes when he looks at Spock? Leonard didn't think too much of it before, during those years at the Academy when Jim's attention was caught by a pretty face.

Spock doesn't have a pretty face, that's for certain. Leonard snickers to himself as he drapes his wet towel over the back of the chair at his computer desk. It's an unique face, Leonard supposes, one that he has only seen in two states: very expressionless or filled with rage.

Leonard would rather not think about Spock's enraged face. The memory still has the power to make him feel nervous. At least Jim survived that encounter, thank god.

Leonard drags a hand down his face and drops into the chair sideways, draping one leg over the chair's arm. He really doesn't understand what it is that has him so flustered.

Jim is interested in Spock, Spock is clueless (in all likelihood), and it really isn't Leonard's business how those two resolve the situation. It's not like Jim will forget about Leonard. Or that Spock will suddenly have an issue with Jim and Leonard's...

He thinks the word _friendship _and, inexplicably, cringes.

"Damn it, man, what's the matter with you?" he demands of himself.

It's space, has to be. This tin can. Too many months cooped up, seeing the same corridors day in and out. Fresh air would be good, Leonard becomes convinced. Maybe once he's out of his routine he can think clearly. Maybe he can stop worrying over things that shouldn't bother him so much.

Decided, Leonard makes a mental note to talk to Jim about the next away mission. He hasn't been on one of those in a while. (Probably because the last one he went on almost ended in his death.)

Yes, this could be just what he needs to get his head straight about priorities, relationships, and duty.

* * *

_approximately two weeks later, newly discovered M-class planet_

"I'm an idiot, a god-damned idiot!"

"_Bones_," Jim says through clenched teeth, "_now is not the time._"

"Agreed," Kirk's Vulcan First Officer seconds quietly.

Leonard looks at the spear pointed at the middle of his ribcage. "Well, I guess even a Vulcan can be wrong sometimes. No life-signs, my sainted aunt!"

"I said the probability of encountering a developed civilization was—"

"Gentlemen." Jim shifts, grimacing as one of the unhappy-looking cavemen waves a very big wooden club in the air. "You can argue on the ship. _If _we manage to make it back."

"Doubtful. We're gonna die."

"I love your optimism, Bones."

"You're welcome."

A dirty-faced neanderthal to Leonard's right begins to do an impatient dance. Either he has to pee very badly or he really, really wants to get on with the killing part of catching the prey. Leonard sidles a little closer to Spock, eyeing the hunter with apprehension.

"How about we stun them?"

"That would require a phaser, Doctor."

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have lost yours."

"Nor you yours."

"I didn't lose it. That hairy one smashed it with a rock."

From his kneeling position on the ground, hands fisted, Jim raises his chin in a way that has Leonard's stomach sinking. When Kirk rises to his feet, slowly enough that he doesn't alarm their captors, sunlight glints off a streak of blood on his chin. "Remember what I said about joining me for a run, Bones?"

"Kid, if it means I don't get tied up like a pig on a spit and roasted over an open fire, I will sprout wings and fly."

"I would be most interested to see that happen, Doctor." The cavemen come to some kind of unanimous decision through a series of grunts and close rank on the three stranded officers. "Captain, now would be the optimal time to share your plan."

"Oh, that's easy, Spock. When I say 'run'—" A caveman jumps at Jim, spear held aloft. "_RUN!_"

Jim dodges lithely to one side and opens a grimy fist, flinging a handful of sand into his attacker's eyes. The caveman howls.

Leonard doesn't have a moment to think, or even follow Jim's command, because someone—Spock—grabs the back of his tunic and spins him out of the way of incoming sharp object. Which is good, because Leonard is fairly certain he would have been impaled in short order.

The cavemen seem to know instinctively that Kirk is the leader, so they target him. Jim staggers back under another series of astonishingly clever assaults. Leonard watches in horror as a club narrowly misses caving in the side of Kirk's head.

"Jim!" McCoy cries, twisting fruitlessly in the grip of the First Officer, who is persistently dragging him in one direction. "Damn you, Spock, let me go! Jim!"

Spock swings them both around the corner of an outcropping of rock and gives Leonard a look that could flay skin from bone. "We passed a cliff two kilometers to the south. Go there. Hide yourself in one of the caves."

"I'm not leaving!"

"I have no time to argue with you, Doctor. Consider it an order." Spock's head jerks to the side as they hear a cry, human, Jim's. Spock's expression goes flat. He launches himself away from the outcropping.

Leonard goes too, not thinking, right on Spock's heels. He doesn't expect Spock to remember him in that moment, to spin around again so abruptly with a frightening sound, catch Leonard by the shoulders and slam him back-first into the nearest rock wall.

"You will do as I say!" roars the Vulcan.

Leonard can only make a gasp, partly in surprise and partly in pain. Spock's fingers dig into his upper arms, hard enough to leave bruises. Spock's face closes in, terrifying, angry.

"Leonard, you. will. run."

Then Spock shoves away from him and leaves.

In the end McCoy does run, but only because an ogre of a man leaps out of a shadow, manages to flatten him into the dirt and rip off his medkit before Leonard can kick him hard enough to get away. By the time he reaches the cliff (it doesn't look like the one from that morning), he is dizzy from exertion.

Finding a cave is easy. The cliff-side is riddled with them. The sun is setting by the time he reaches one several feet shy of the ground and the temperature has dropped significantly. Huddled in the darkness of his hideaway, it is only then that a loose-limbed and exhausted McCoy remembers caves are, naturally, where cavemen make their homes. He hears hands and feet scrambling among the rocks by the entrance.

It all goes terribly south from there, and he is immeasurably glad Jim and Spock aren't around to be party to it.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

They don't find McCoy, of course.

In the sky's pre-dawn light, Jim leans his shoulder against a wall made of rock and closes his eyes. He feels rather than hears the sound of Spock's approach.

"Anything?"

"Negative, Captain."

Kirk resists the urge to plant his fist into the hard surface beneath his shoulder. He pushes away from the wall. Immediately Spock reaches out to help Jim by taking his weight. Jim slips out of reach, not ready to be touched, by limping toward the mouth of a cave. He could join the dark shadows inside, probably should so he can rest a moment more before the sun fully rises. Bones would force him to lay down if he was here.

The guilt Jim feels intensifies. "I shouldn't have let him come on the mission," he says, voice harsh in the hushed air. "I should have known better."

"Jim."

Jim's shoulders draw into a line of tightly leashed frustration and anger. "When will I learn, Spock? When will I stop forgetting? Last time we almost lost him. I'm such a fool!" _Damn it, Bones, where are you?_

"Danger is inherent in every mission. Like any Starfleet officer, Dr. McCoy knows this. He chose the risk, as you did, Captain, and as I have chosen." Spock finishes more quietly, "...As we will likely choose again in the near future."

"But Bones..."

"Is well-trained in survival, sir."

Jim turns on Spock, not liking that the Vulcan doesn't seem to share his worry. "I understand that you don't indulge in rampant emotionalism, Mr. Spock, but now is not the time to feel _nothing_."

If it weren't for Spock's eyes—those intelligent, expressive eyes—Jim would never be able to tell when his First Officer was affected by something. Now he can see that he has crossed a line he shouldn't have. Jim begins, "Spock, I—" only to be cut off.

"Captain," Kirk's title is said in a flat, dangerous tone, "your presumption is insulting."

Whatever apology Jim might have made flees. Kirk feels his temper rise, perhaps in a desperate need for an outlet. Leonard commented once that Jim could only internalize his emotions for so long before they took over and found a way out on their own. It seems he was right.

Spock watching him, as a hawk watches the mouse scurrying through the field, only makes things worse. Jim feels his back teeth grinding against each other as the anger crests then breaks.

"_Presume?_" he bursts out, stung and incensed at the same time. "Since when do I make presumptions about you, Spock? I _know _you, mister, maybe better than you know yourself!"

"And yet when it is convenient to do so, you choose to believe as so many of your illogical species do about the nature of _my _species."

"You're half human!"

"Precisely," Spock responds, cold, speech clipped. "I am human, and I am Vulcan. No one knows this better than I, Jim. I feel as keenly as a human and as _deeply _as a Vulcan—whose temperament can far outstrip any anger or grief a human proposes to experience. Do not accuse me of being unfeeling again."

Jim's sure footing is fast turning into boggy ground. He grapples for what defense he has left, saying a bit fiercely, "Do you expect me to believe you suddenly care about McCoy?"

"How I perceive Dr. McCoy is neither sudden nor transitory. Yet that matter is, as you humans prefer to say, none of your business. We must find him. Let us focus our energy upon that task, and forget this fruitless argument." Spock moves away, forcing an abrupt end to the conversation.

It takes a moment for Jim's body to recall how to move but when it does, he is quick to catch up to Spock and take a hold of the Vulcan by the arms. Jim cannot help the astonishment in his voice, no matter how he tries to soften his question. "What are you saying, Spock? Do you feel... close to Leonard?"

Spock simply looks at him.

Jim points out, "You challenge him at every turn."

One of Spock's eyebrows twitches. "I do not challenge Leonard. It is Leonard who challenges me. I merely respond."

Jim brushes away the inexplicable urge to laugh. "Of course," he soothes at once. "I meant to say that you two seem to tolerate one another at the best of times." _Which has always bothered me... somehow I think Bones knows that, _he realizes, careful not to voice the new thought.

Spock's gaze drops to Jim's hand on his right arm, which he wordlessly stares at.

"Oh, sorry," Jim says, letting go of the Vulcan.

Returning his eyes to meet Jim's, Spock replies, "Do you wish to know the truth, Captain?"

Jim winces. "Don't—it's _Jim_, Spock. I'm not asking as your captain." He adds after a momentary pause, "Anything you tell me will stay between us." He lifts the corners of his mouth. "We are friends after all."

"Our definitions of friendship may vary."

Jim's heart plummets at that lightly said statement, but he tries not to show his hurt. "I'm sure they do," he agrees somewhat airily, then prompts, "About McCoy?"

For a brief second, it seems as though Spock might turn evasive in his answer. Yet what he tells Jim is not evasive in the least. It is direct, disturbingly so:

"Leonard McCoy and I may not follow the same thought processes. We may not always appreciate the differences between us. Nevertheless, we are equals in our intelligence and our morals. The things we value individually, if not the same, are often complementary. I consider him an excellent companion. With Vulcans, it is logical that a companion of such merit can also become a mate, given an additional compatibility of their minds. I have not, as of yet," Spock concludes with a trace of regret, "experienced a joining of the mind with Dr. McCoy."

Jim's throat works for a moment while he absorbs the implications of what Spock is telling him. In the end, all he can think to say is "You've touched my mind."

"Yes."

"One more than once, when... when it was necessary," Jim tacks on, certain it would be a miracle if Spock doesn't read between the lines and realize why Jim is suddenly struggling to speak.

"That is correct." The Vulcan standing in front of him looks curious, friendly, not at all like he doesn't enjoy the reminder of those mind-melds.

This is one of those turning points where a person finds out how courageous he is. Jim has never feared the kind of things most people do—but this, this he could be afraid of. Still, courage—or foolhardiness, depending on how one views the situation—is one of Kirk's indestructible characteristics. Without it, he wouldn't be who he is.

He asks of his Vulcan officer and friend, "Are our minds compatible?"

Where Kirk is no coward, neither is Spock. (That is partly why Jim likes him so much.) "Our minds are compatible, Jim, almost seamlessly so, which is precisely why the act leaves no ill effects upon you. It is my suspicion you and I will always be more compatible in this regard than I shall be with Leonard."

Oh. That is both fantastic and apprehensive news. He feels like he should apologize to Bones at some point, though for what he is not quite sure. "I won't say I'm upset to hear it, Spock. I know I cannot speak on behalf of McCoy, but you have my blessing. I hope things work out the way you want them to." Jim goes on to tell the Vulcan seriously, "Once we have Bones back, promise me you won't wait to talk to him. If he means so much to you, he should know. You said it yourself: by the very nature of our work, we take risks with our lives. There's no point in missing out on happiness while you can still have it."

Spock is silent for a short minute. "Admittedly, there are occasions when your behavior seems strange to me, Jim."

Jim lifts his eyebrows. "Is that so?"

"You speak wisely, yet do not consider the wisdom applicable to yourself. Tell me, which of us should yield to the other?"

Jim is usually smart enough to follow Spock's logic. This time, not so much. "What?"

"In the matter of Dr. McCoy," Spock explains patiently. "Will you place your own desire aside to allow me the opportunity to pursue mine?"

Jim feels like he should be surprised Spock knows his feelings aren't strictly platonic concerning Bones, but oddly he isn't. Instead, Jim grins slightly. "I just said you can take lead, didn't I, Mr. Spock?"

"Sir, I do not believe you have fully considered the repercussions of your offer."

Jim gives Spock a slow once-over. "Oh, I haven't made an offer yet, Spock."

"Pardon me?" Spock's eyebrows draw together in confusion.

Jim claps him on the shoulder. "Let's just say, with this new knowledge, I will definitely be altering my game plan—but I never said I would be give anything, or anyone, up."

"...I fear I do not understand."

"You're right. Fighting is pointless right now. Let's find Bones. I think that's the only way to settle things. Also," Jim looks at the pinkish horizon where the sun has finally appeared, his thoughts turning grim, "pining won't do either of us much good if we lose him."

"I advised him to seek shelter in one of these caves." Spock's voice is troubled as his eyes skims the face of the cliff. "I can find no signs that he arrived here."

"Then we will look elsewhere until he is found." Jim steps back and gives their surroundings another long look. He mutters under his breath, "We should be beyond the second check-in by now. Scotty will know something's gone amiss and have pinpointed our location."

"Indeed. If Mr. Scott follows standard procedure, we should meet a second landing party shortly."

Jim flattens his mouth into a thin line. "I'm not going back to the ship without Bones."

Strangely, Spock does not reproachful as he remarks, "Your injury, however marginal it may seem to you, does require medical attention, which," at Jim's look, he adds too blandly, "is a determination Dr. McCoy is certainly qualified to make once you locate him."

"Excellent suggestion, Mr. Spock! I like the way you think."

"I have no doubt that you do, Captain."

Jim chuckles at the Vulcan's dry tone and points south. "The geographical report noted another mountainous range to the south. Maybe Bones got turned around."

"That would have been my next suggestion."

"Then south we go."

Together, Jim trying his best to curb his limp, they leave the honeycomb-like structure of caves and head in a new direction.

* * *

McCoy's head hurts. It hurts worse than the time he clipped his head as he fell out of a gigantic tree (he still swears to this day some damned tree spirit had pushed him from behind and laughed gleefully as it did so). It had been a thing of luck Spock was only a few limbs farther up the tree and wearing a new pair of rocket boots. If the Vulcan hadn't caught McCoy by the back of his tunic and landed them safely on the ground, McCoy hitting his head would have been a trivial injury compared to a broken neck.

As his senses begin to reorient themselves, this is the memory Leonard comes awake to: the air rushing past his face, the panic, the pain—and Spock's tight grip on his shoulder then later around his waist. Jim hadn't been with them during that adventure (thank god); otherwise Leonard suspects it would have been Kirk who almost met his end at the base of that planet's version of an alien redwood.

A grunt somewhere above Leonard, at first sharp then fading, has him focusing his attention on the present. He opens his eyes only to see darkness and blinks several times. The darkness does not abate, but in that dark a form takes a vaguely humanoid shape.

Round head, gleaming eyes. As a face leans in, Leonard can see a slightly squashed nose. The person snorts on him.

McCoy's heart goes from quiet to frantic in half of a second. He can feel the instant reaction of his limbs to a rush of adrenaline. His upper body coils, then shoots upright. There is a part-squawk, part-scream as the person leaning over him jerks back as Leonard suddenly comes to life.

Some feet away, the darkness is no longer absolute. It is painted with red and orange shadows dancing across the cavern walls.

Fire.

And more humanoids.

The humanoid in front of McCoy is actually quite small. A child, Leonard realizes. Naked and male. Now frightened as it scrambles away towards the fire, whereas it must have been curious before while watching Leonard sleep.

Leonard's sight goes blurry for a moment and he shakes his head, then immediately wishes he hadn't. Fighting down a bout of nausea, his fingers find a very sore spot at the back of his head. He remembers being struck.

There were intruders in his cave... or maybe he was the intruder? It is hard to guess, much less to know for certain. One thing is clear however: they hadn't killed him.

Carefully, quietly, Leonard scoots backwards until he meets solid rock. He can't run obviously since the entrance to the cave is blocked by the three or four figures of his captors. He doesn't have his tricorder to get an assessment of his injuries (he would guess he has a mild concussion) or his medkit, so any pain will have to be endured.

_I need a weapon_, he thinks, feeling cautiously around in the dark next to him. But there is nothing, only tiny shards of rock and a slight dampness to the floor of the cave. Leonard lifts his fingers to inspect the wet substance and pales, recognizing it almost instantly as blood.

Could it be his?

His fingers find the patch again, trace it, track it. The rock is smooth and slightly sticky where some of it has dried; in other places, there are little puddles. Altogether, too much.

Then he finds something that isn't blood. It feels like matted fur, a strip of it. Shifting the object is enough to create a stench Leonard hadn't picked out before: animal rot.

Oh god. Have they dragged him back here to lie in a pile of carcasses? Next he will be finding the bones of their last meal and...

Leonard feels sick to his stomach. Forget the last meal, he's probably the next one!

The low murmurs and quiet rustling near the entrance to the cave is broken by a sharp, foreign cry. It isn't a bird or any creature Leonard has heard before. It could roughly match a humanoid's vocals, if the cry was meant to show great pain.

Everything is suddenly too still in the cave. Leonard too becomes motionless, hardly dares to breathe. Then one of the humanoids in the cave raises his voice—no, _hers_—letting loose a loud but short-lived keen. Like a caterwaul of grief. In response, something outside of the cave howls back.

This is communication, Leonard realizes. They don't have a language of words like Leonard is used to; but then again, what are words but a series of modulated sounds?

When the cave falls into silence again, Leonard's breaths have evened out. His thoughts have receded from the point of panic and shifted to focus on a sense of purpose. This is a situation he has to learn how to handle so he can survive. First order of business: don't die. Second order of business: find Jim or Spock or both.

The little cave boy comes back, scuttling across the cavern floor on all fours like a crab. He stops within an arm's length of Leonard, stick in hand. Leonard says nothing. The cave boy pokes at Leonard's boot. Still, Leonard says nothing.

With a grunt, the boy uses the stick to prod farther along McCoy's leg. It's difficult but Leonard tries to be very still—until, of course, the boy tries to poke him in the crotch. Leonard says sharply "Stop that!" and swats away the offending branch.

Satisfied, the boy sits back on his haunches and taps the stick rhythmically on the floor. He looks over his shoulder at the adults around the fire for a quick second or two, maybe to see if they are watching, before returning his attention to Leonard.

"_Gug_," says the boy.

"Leonard," replies McCoy. "Nice to meet you, Gug."

"Gug."

"Sure, kid." Leonard catches sight of a pair of golden eyes watching them from the opposite side of the fire. "Go tell Mommy and Daddy I'm not staying for dinner." _Especially because I don't plan on being dinner._

"Gug-a-glug."

"You sound like Jim when he gets drunk and loses his vowels."

The boy purses his lips and blows out air. "Pfff."

"Obviously same intelligence level too. Damn it, Jim," Leonard murmurs to himself, "I hope you didn't get yourself killed."

The adult with the creepy stare makes a low rumble. The boy rocks forward and hunches his shoulders. The rumble increases, and it's quite an unhappy sound. The boy just thwacks his stick harder on the ground.

Leonard sees where this is headed. "You're about to get dragged back to the fire by your hair," he tells the child. "Go on. Shoo."

The rumble becomes a bark demanding obedience. The boy must not be as stupid as he looks because he finally, though in a sulk, scuttles back toward the fire. Leonard's tensed muscles loosen and he draws up a knee. There is a tear in his pants leg, he discovers, and a scrape along his shin. He must have done that when he climbed up the cliff face.

"Shoulda stayed on the ship," Leonard mutters.

Minutes later, there is a new howl from outside. The cavemen around the fire stand up as one. They all have spears, except the child.

Fingers digging futilely into the stone, Leonard's heart races as two males come toward him at a slow lumber. He almost stays in a sitting position but decides better of it. The odds are better if he is on his feet. There isn't much of a chance that he could get out of this cave alive if they turned on him but...

_What would Jim do?_

Jim would fight.

Leonard shudders as one of the cavemen levels a spear at him and grunt something. Probably means, _Don't make a fuss and come to your death. _McCoy, since the start of the Enterprise's five-year mission, has heard that a lot and in many different languages. This is the first in caveman-speak, though.

_What would Spock do?_

Spock, Leonard decides, would play along until he was within reach to nerve-pinch somebody.

Not for the first time, Leonard vacillates on what to do and comes to the conclusion he cannot be either Jim or Spock. He has to be himself.

And that means patience. Leonard lifts his hands in a universal sign of surrender. This seems to be acceptable to his captors—that is, not threatening behavior—and Leonard is prodded from his spot against the wall toward the fire. Then he is prodded by the spear through the entrance of the cave to its narrow ledge that overlooks the landscape beyond the cliff.

They can't walk him down. There is no path. He bends his knees in order to grab the edge of the rock and climb down himself. It doesn't occur to Leonard in that moment that there was never any intention of his safety or well-being; thus he is unprepared for the rough shove from behind. Leonard unbalances with a strangled sound, wobbles on the ledge for an instant, feeling solid rock under him one second and nothing but air the next. Then he plunges downward to meet the bottom of the cliff.

* * *

**So, sorry, one more part before it's over. This "utterly self-serving K/S/M fic" I planned to write needs a little more love and care than I thought!**


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

Dying means many things to Leonard. He won't get to make the memories he has always wanted for himself—memories of family and loved ones, the kind of good memories that can warm old bones even years afterward; his untimely death will hurt some of his closest relatives and friends; and more importantly, that difference he hoped to make some day in his field, the research he won't finish and the lives he won't save—gone in the blink of an eye.

The thought of death is terrifying, but Leonard is more terrified of losing his chance to be happy again. He wants that most of all. He spent a long time trudging through the days of each year without truly taking pleasure in them. Finally, a healing seems be occurring in him. He laughs more freely, and that laughter is genuine when it comes; often now he wakes up thinking the day is going to be a very good one. Being out here, in space with Starfleet, has given him a way to move past his misery.

And yet someone is trying to take that from him.

The caveman's two-handed shove sends Leonard over the narrow ledge. The drop is vertical for the first ten feet; then the cliff slopes gently outward, like an distended belly, having been carefully carved by time and rough weather into shelf-like plateaus of rock. Leonard hits the slope on his left side, bruises the muscle of his shoulder at the force of the impact. But even by then his momentum is too great to stop, and he tumble-slides several more feet until, miraculously, his shirt sleeve catches on a small root poking through the rock. Leonard jerks to a halt near the edge of the plateau, legs dangling over its side. There is still a great distance between him and the ground.

The fabric of the shirt sleeve tears into a long hole just below the wrist's hemline. It's like an invisible person has caught Leonard and is trying to hold onto him but is quickly losing his grip. Leonard flails out with his free hand. His fingers skim over the rock looking for a handhold. The heels of his boots scrap helplessly across the sandstone-smooth surface of the cliff-side.

He does not secure his position in time. The torn sleeve gives way to Leonard's body weight, and gravity takes over again.

Maybe it is the spark of anger beneath Leonard's terror that pushes him to fight back. With a cry, he twists over onto his stomach and juts out his elbows, using a sudden burst of strength to cling to the edge of the plateau. The next drop will likely crack his head open or break his back. His memory is fuzzy on how he had gotten up to the cave; he'd been on automatic pilot, as worn out as he was, but he had to have hauled himself up to each ledge.

_Don't look down,_ Leonard reminds himself grimly, grunting with the effort of holding on. _Wall—find a wall!_

Kicking out with one leg almost costs him his precious hold. His elbows slide another inch off the edge. Panic wants to take over. He's going to fall. Any second now, he's going to fall...

_No, not yet. Can't fall. Can't die_, he tells himself stubbornly. More cautiously this time, Leonard reaches out with his leg—and almost whimpers in relief when he plants a boot against a solid surface.

This is worse than the time Jim had made him go rock-climbing inside one of the Academy's gyms; no, maybe it's not. Leonard remembers slipping off that contraption, saved only by the rope hooked onto his belt from falling to certain death. From the very top of the wall, Jim had grinned down at a McCoy swinging back and forth in the air like a grumpy marionette and said, "You're doing great! You almost made it halfway this time, Bones!"

He had wanted to punch Jim in the face. Instead, he let the kid buy him a consolation drink.

_Check your hold, then push hard with your legs_, Leonard thinks, remembering the way Jim had scrambled across that wall like he was having the best day of his life, calling out instructions to Leonard.

He doesn't have a good hold with only his forearms anchored against the rock, but that cannot matter. He braces the soles of his boots against the wall and pushes, using his upper body strength to haul himself upwards. It works at first, gaining him an inch or two.

Leonard makes a strangled noise and tries harder. Elbows make it back onto the rock but he can't keep this up—can't go farther. One foot slips loose; he's only braced by the toes of his other foot and he has run out of leverage.

Determined, thinking of Jim on every insane mission fighting tooth and nail to win when the odds are down, thinking of a certain Vulcan who would have three times the strength McCoy does, who would give Leonard the extra boost he needs if he was there...

A cry rips out of McCoy's throat as he throws himself forward with the last vestiges of his will. In a desperate struggle he heaves his body upward until he is lying chest against the stone. Cheek pressed to the cold surface, he makes a half-laugh, half-sob before dragging in several much-needed deep breaths.

Afterwards, pulling himself the rest of the way to safety is more exhausting than thrilling. When Leonard is stretched across the angled plateau, he closes his eyes and tries to imagine himself melting into the cliff. He could cling here for eternity, he thinks, if necessary. No one is moving from him this spot unless they have equipment to pry him off like a barnacle on the side of a sailboat.

This, of course, is when a caveman comes expertly skating down the side of the cliff and stops just a few feet shy of Leonard's head, showering Leonard with bits of dirt and rock and some kind of white shale. The caveman hunkers there and looks McCoy over.

"Get away from me," Leonard tells him testily, voice hoarse.

The caveman grunts and leans forward on the knuckles of his hands. Leonard thinks these humanoids must be very well adapted to living in cliff-caves, because it's unnatural how at ease they seem with moving over the sharp rocks and down dangerous cliffs, like spiders picking their way across webs of their own making. Maybe their skin isn't like his; maybe it is designed just for some kind of spider-rock-walking. He's seen stranger things in his lifetime. Part of him thinks of how much Spock would love to study these people.

Another caveman appears next to the one observing Leonard like a bug under glass and raises one of their crudely made spears. He bangs the blunt end against the rockface, gives Leonard a narrow-eyed look, and tilts his head back to howl. The noise raises the hairs on the back of Leonard's neck to the point that he feels electrified by his fear.

This isn't going to get better, he realizes as the caveman without the spear reaches for Leonard's vulnerable wrist.

But they don't dislodge him and toss him the remainder of the way to the cliff's bottom. They drag him back up to the ledge of the cave and sit him there next to a very widely grinning cave boy.

"Gug," says Leonard's newfound friend, as if he's very proud of Leonard for not dying.

Leonard doesn't know what to say in response. He simply stares.

* * *

If Jim has ever felt fear in his life, it is the moment he realizes McCoy is in the kind of danger Jim can't get him out of.

"Your analysis, Mr. Spock," Kirk demands quietly from where he is crouched.

Spock is silent a second too long in Jim's opinion before he replies. "It grieves me to say this, Captain, but we cannot reveal ourselves in our present state."

"They've already seen us," Jim argues, though he knows in his heart that fact cannot matter. Still, he needs to hear Spock say it so he doesn't feel so awful in his conclusion.

"Correct, though at the time it was not in our power to prevent such an occurrence. However, this is clearly a budding civilization." Spock's tone lowers slightly. "Jim, you understand the regulations we must follow as well as I."

Jim looks at his First Officer, whose gaze is heavy but full of trust, and realizes slowly that Spock is trying to tell him something he doesn't want to put into words. Returning his gaze to the scene before him, where a disheveled McCoy is perched halfway up a cliff, one leg drawn up to his chest and the other hanging off the side of a ledge as he gestures at a small child, Jim thinks hard about what he can do as opposed to what he can't.

No weapons can be used, not even the partly functional phaser they recovered during the brawl (the one where Spock saved Jim's life by nerve-pinching his assailant). No transporting McCoy out from under the noses of the natives unless they can isolate him first. Simply put, he has to be able to walk in there and—

Jim curls a hand into a fist and lightly thumps the rock he and Spock are hiding behind in triumph. "How much of Earth's history have you studied?"

"All of it."

"Then unfortunately you know we humans have a slightly barbaric side to us."

Jim can read the amusement in Spock's voice when he says, "Only slightly, Captain?"

Allowing himself a brief smile, Jim cuts his eyes at the Vulcan. "Look at them, Spock. They're far enough along in evolution to have a community—which means they understand the concept of family. I think with a little basic communication we can establish that Bones belongs with us."

"If we are discussing the behavior of humans, Jim, then I might remind you there was several periods in Earth history in which one person was considered the property of another person simply through invasion and force. You cannot make the assumption they will allow us to take him without challenge."

"Exactly. We challenge them!" If Jim sounds excited about this prospect, Spock is gracious enough not to mention how illogical that is. "Surely there was a point where your people didn't always adhere to logic, Spock, when declaring a rightful claim."

Spock's silence would seem odd to Jim if he was paying close attention, but he is fixated on memorizing the layout of the cliff and its caves. He only partly catches the Vulcan's low response of "...Yes, it was common in the time of our ancestors."

Jim goes on to study the different groups of natives: those that seem like the hunters and defenders (stationed at the edges of the territory like soliders, Jim thinks) and the small pocket of females and children just inside the cave closest to McCoy. Next to Jim, Spock adds cryptically "It still is" and rises to his feet. Surprised by the motion, Kirk grabs Spock's wrist. "Wait a minute, we need a plan!"

The Vulcan looks down at him, expression remarkably calm. "There is a plan. We take what is ours."

"This isn't a fight."

"I highly doubt the 'challenge' will involve a discussion, Captain."

Jim rocks back on his heels for a second, bemused, before making a quick decision and standing up. "You seem to know what you're about, Mr. Spock. All right, you're in the lead."

Amused for some reason, Spock replies, "You may release me now, Jim. Also, I believe you already offered me the lead."

It strikes Kirk then, as he lets go of Spock's wrist, exactly what the Vulcan is talking about—and what he is preparing to do. "So that's what this is," Jim says with approval. "I have to admit, I thought your method of courting would be a little less..."

"Aggressive?"

Jim grins. "Illogical."

Spock doesn't bat an eyelash. "Aggression can be logical, given the right circumstances."

"...I could totally make an inappropriate joke here, Spock."

"I would rather you restrained yourself."

Jim chuckles and tucks their only weapon, a battered-looking phaser, into the back of his pants. Then he shucks his shirt. As Spock's eyebrows draw together in befuddlement, Jim beams and puffs out his chest. "We're going native," he says. He completely expects the long pause from his second-in-command.

"...Jim, the natives are _naked_." Spock sounds more than slightly appalled at the suggestion of discarding his clothing.

Jim considers the rest of his outfit with a critical eye. "I suppose we don't have to be nude to make a point."

"I would hope so," Spock begins, reluctantly tugging at the tail of his uniform shirt, "for I have no desire to beam aboard the Enterprise without pants."

"Pretty sure I've done that at least once."

"Three times, Captain."

"Dare I ask why you're keeping count, Commander?"

"I am composing a biography," the Vulcan deadpans, "of your most embarassing exploits."

Jim bursts out laughing, only to clamp a hand over his mouth as he remembers they are in enemy territory. He clears his throat rather sheepishly. "You _do_have a sense of humor. Bones is so wrong."

Whatever Spock meant to say in response dies when he turns abruptly, eyes alert, and shifts his stance to a posture just on the cusp of defensive. In a heartbeat, Jim is at Spock's side. "What is it?" he asks quietly. But he need not have voiced the question.

Four cavemen march around the outcropping of rock, spears at the ready. Jim suppresses his immediate instinct to act. In return, the cavemen don't charge them like they did the first time they met Kirk wandering in the middle of their desert planet.

Jim lifts his hands, neither smiling nor frowning. He tries to appear as neutral as possible to the outcome of being surrounded. For some reason, it works—or he thinks it does until one of the natives looses a snarl and raises his spear threateningly. Jim has a moment of recognition. He had definitely punched that one in the face at some point during yesterday's tussle.

Another native barks out a command and bangs his spear against the raised one. He does it a second time. So, Jim decides, Long Hair is the leader of the tribe. Jim can deal with that. He slowly circles his would-be attackers, at first with a few tentative steps, then with more confidence when they don't stop him. The leader watches Kirk with his dark, intelligent eyes. When Jim is far enough away from the rocks that he has a clear view of the cliff, he stretches out one hand and points at McCoy.

"Mine," he says, low, guttural. He points to himself, to Spock, and then again to the distant figure that is his Chief Medical Officer.

Long Hair grunts and turns to study the bare-chested Spock. Jim truly hopes the natives of this planet don't have a superstition against humanoids with pointed ears. Of course, if they do not now, no doubt they will once Kirk and his crew are gone. That's definitely not something to mention in the report to Starfleet Command.

Spock follows Jim's example and points to McCoy.

Long Hair snorts and strikes his spear on the ground. The cavemen around him shift with unease but the leader does it again, this time more forcefully. They back away from Kirk and Spock. Jims looks to his friend and officer and says, "I think we got through to them."

Then the leader tips his head back and howls. All of the males in the area return the howl as one unit.

And Jim's good feeling turns bad.

* * *

Oh what the... that cannot be who he thinks it is.

Leonard shades his eyes from the sun and, no, he's not hallucinating. It's Jim, as clear as day. The sunlight turns Jim's head into a crown of gold. Leonard could never mistake that rich color, especially when among all of these dark-haired people. He relaxes his strained eyes briefly before focusing them again.

And how surprising, Jim has lost his shirt. Leonard allows himself a snort of amusement. Then another figure moves into view alongside Kirk, and Leonard almost falls off his ledge.

_Spock is shirtless too_.

For a long moment, Leonard can't think enough to speak. No Vulcan loses his shirt haphazardly, and definitely not _Spock_. This may be a dry, dusty planet but it isn't of the likes of Spock's homeworld. The idiot is going to freeze!

Leonard's stomach sinks with a new suspicion.

Oh sweet Jesus, what are they up?

He drops the hand from his eyes and crouches along the ledge. There has to be a way to the ground. If he climbed up, he can climb down, for god's sake! Maybe he is muttering, because a small face pokes into his line of sight and goes, "Gug-a-glug?"

Leonard looks at Gug, the cave boy who likes to spend his time squashing little ants and presenting them to Leonard. He points down the cliff. "Down. Go down."

Gug grins, showing the gap between his front teeth.

"This is not a game!" Leonard cries with frustration. But how can he make the child understand that? Damn it, there's nothing he can do but exactly what he doesn't want to. Leonard slings a leg over the edge and prays to every deity he can think of that he isn't going to fall.

Gug's eyes grow wide and he makes a sound of alarm. Leonard ignores him, trying to figure out where the heck he can put the toe of his boot and have it hold his weight. How in god's name did he manage to get up here last night? He must have flown!

For the first time since they met, Gug looks distressed. He scampers out of Leonard's sight and into the cave to the circle of adults.

* * *

Jim starts forward, his fear suddenly back to steal his breath. "_What is he doing?_"

McCoy is hanging more than halfway off of a ledge, and the drop is too far for the man to fall and not injury himself.

Unfortunately, when Jim leaps into action to commence with a rescue (wherein he magically scales the cliff and saves McCoy from a harebrained scheme) the leader throws his spear directly into the dirt at Jim's feet in warning. Jim whirls on the caveman, furious.

"He's going to die!" he shouts, pointing wildly in Bones's direction.

Long Hair takes another spear from one of his men, un-intimidated by the yelling.

In the next instant Kirk turns to his First Officer, and they share a look. Jim has no intention of standing there and watching his friend get himself killed. They don't need words, he and Spock, to understand one another. Jim will seize the opportunity to run, and Spock will prevent anyone from going after him. No one dies today: not him, not Spock, and definitely not McCoy.

Every fiber of his being is prepared.

But not for what actually happens.

One of the females comes out of the cave and peers down at McCoy's head. The boy-child at her side dances from foot to foot with impatience; he might be fussing. Jim can't tell from this distance. She reaches down and plucks up McCoy like he is no bigger than the boy and hugs him to her chest. Then she leaps partway down the cliff and begins a winding path to its base.

A tension drains out of Jim when the female sets Bones on the ground, slaps at a curious male who comes over to see what she's doing, and turns around in a great huff to ascend the cliff again. Without thinking, Jim breaks into a slow jog, crossing the length of open ground between him and his quarry.

"Bones!" he calls. McCoy's head lifts when Jim is no more than two arm's lengths away. "Bones," Jim repeats, voice more gentle, as he comes abreast of the man. "You okay?"

Leonard's expression is difficult to read. "I... don't know," replies the doctor slowly. "What just happened?"

Jim squats next to McCoy. "I'd say you had a piggyback ride."

McCoy's voice sours. "...I'm too old for this shit, Jim."

And the Bones he knows and loves is back. But just to make certain, Jim lays a hand on Leonard's shoulder. Leonard's fingers automatically curl around his. Jim goes limp for a moment in relief before withdrawing his hand in order to assist Bones to his feet.

When they stand up together, Jim realizes Spock has been behind his shoulder the entire time. He also realizes the band of natives have followed them over and formed a half-circle to his right. It looks as though the fight is going to happen whether Jim is ready for it or not. He squares his shoulders.

Long Hair steps forward to meet him and points at McCoy. Then he grunts something and points at Kirk.

Not taking his eyes off of the leader, Jim asks Spock, "What are the odds of us walking out of here unchallenged?" Next to Jim, McCoy stiffens.

"You might prefer that I do not answer that question, Captain."

"Bones?"

"Jim," Leonard's voice is low and cautious but very sincere, "they haven't really hurt me—"

Oh, that's a lie. Bones is a poor liar. Which means those cuts on Leonard's hands and the smell of dried blood will tell a truth Jim needs to hear. But he keeps his thoughts to himself because now is not the time to argue about what did or didn't happen to one of his men.

"—so let's just... get the hell out of here. Mr. Spock, what are you doing?" snaps McCoy.

"You are favoring your left arm, Doctor. Are you injured?"

"No, maybe—damn it! Stop that! No amount of poking is going to help us right now, you pointy-eared nincompoop!"

Jim turns at the same time Bones bumps into him.

"Jim," Bones sounds more flustered than irritated, "call off your dog."

The Vulcan leans into Leonard's space, his brows angled severely downward, which causes Leonard to lean farther into Jim's space. Jim wraps an arm around McCoy's waist to steady them both so they don't fall over.

Spock gives Leonard one last long, intense stare before he eases backward, saying, "I am not fond of these new references to my person, Dr. McCoy."

Jim watches, mildly amused, as Bones flounders for a retort.

"What do you mean, you're not _fond of them_? You don't get a say in what I call you, you—green-blooded hobgoblin!"

The look in Spock's eyes clears somewhat. "Ah," he says, and nothing more.

Looking from Spock to McCoy and back again, Jim realizes he should have noticed the attraction sooner.

It's the thump of a spear butt on the ground which draws the three men from their own little world. Once again, Long Hair points from Leonard to Jim. The motion has less patience than it did before.

Jim doesn't know quite what to make of the gesture but he figures they shouldn't waste time trying to find out. He tells Spock to take McCoy and move away. Jim expects the response to be threatening at best and bloody at worst.

...Except nothing happens. Spock draws Leonard farther from the cliff and its caves, and not a thing happens.

"Jim!" Bones calls hurriedly. "C'mon! Let's get out of here while they're feeling generous!"

He takes two steps in the direction of Spock and McCoy—and is halted by a spear blocking his path. Long Hair smiles (actually _smiles_) like he is pleased about something. That's when Jim realizes he made a mistake in not trying to understand those details.

"Spock," Kirk hears Leonard say, or gasp, "it's a trade... _you traded me for Jim?_"

Jim can't hear the Vulcan's reply. The half-circle of cavemen close in on him, and Jim falls into a defensive stance. He can handle this, he tells himself, so long as Spock and Bones make their escape. If it isn't like déjà-vu, the thought comes unbidden, when a long meaty arm reaches out to grab his hair...

And suddenly there is chaos.

One of the males face-plants on the dirt; another swings his spear wildly at an assailant, only to have said spear snatched out of his hands and snapped in half like a twig. Long Hair (the one who had been about to put his hands on Jim) turns, barking out something in a sharp tone, and in the next instant is choking to death.

Then Bones is there between Jim and the man being choked, hands clamped over Spock's like he thinks he can break the Vulcan's hold. Jim inhales one painful breath. He has seen Spock in a rage. This is far more terrifying. There is no hint of anger on Spock's face now, just a deadly calm.

"Stop!" Jim hears himself cry out. "Spock, let him go!"

And Spock does, as if all he had needed was a command from Jim. Long Hair drops like a deadweight to the ground, gasps pathetically, and wiggles away from them. In his escape, he finds the broken half of a spear and staggers back to his feet, looking terrified as he thrusts it in their direction.

Spock merely stares at the idiot.

Then, without warning, the Vulcan spins around and takes a hold of Jim—Jim recognizes the intent far too late to protest properly—and swings Kirk over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Jim never wants to relive that moment again, certain what comes out his mouth is the least manly sound he has ever made in his life.

"Uh," McCoy says intelligently, to which Jim has no reply. Then Spock starts walking and Leonard is walking too, but not by choice. If Jim cranes his neck far enough at an angle he can see that Spock has a vice-like grip on McCoy's wrist and is basically dragging the man alongside them.

* * *

"Well," Jim will say later once Spock has resurfaced from whatever frightening stupor had taken hold of him during the fray, "that was not how I imagined this happening." At least, not the part where he's toted around like an ailing princess.

Across from a seated and dirty Jim, Leonard wearily lifts his head and looks confused. "What are you talking about?"

Jim dares to glance at the turned back of the Vulcan, who is trying to preserve the last shreds of his dignity under the guise of keeping a lookout for the Enterprise's second landing party. They don't anticipate anyone else trying to bother them after Spock's disturbing display of violence. Vulcan ancestors, Jim thinks, have nothing on Spock.

"Don't worry about it, Bones," he tells his friend. "You'll know soon enough." He smiles and nods in the direction of their third companion. "When he's in a better mood to explain."

Spock reacts by looking sharply at Jim over his shoulder. His eyes are still a touch too dark but otherwise he appears composed. "You said you would make an offer," he remarks.

Leonard stops massaging his shoulder to consider them, frowning.

Jim's attention stays focused on Spock. "I said you haven't heard mine yet."

"Then you will tell it to me now."

Jim relaxes against his corner of a boulder. "I think you know what it is, Spock."

"Damn it, we've only been apart for half of a day. What have I missed?" demands McCoy.

Spock's silence is long and thoughtful. In the meantime, Jim finds Bones' hand and takes it between his own. Leonard gives him an odd look but doesn't pull away.

"So, Bones," Jim begins, "have we explained all of the benefits of a Vulcan mind-meld yet? You know, it would be a lot harder for someone to keep us separated if we could sense each other over long distances..."

Spock is listening and not so much absorbing Jim's proposal, Jim decides, as silently lauding its genius. Jim is, after all, smart enough and persuasive enough to know how to get what he wants once he figures out he wants it. And this, these two men, he wants very badly.

So he forges on in his most convincing voice, thinking if he can't seal the deal now, there will be many more opportunities to pursue his desire. Another stolen glance at Spock confirms that he already has one solid supporter in his corner. Bones will be in agreement before long. Why have a dynamic duo when there can be three?

* * *

There's something wrong with Jim and Spock, thinks McCoy as Jim starts in with his sweet-talking. Do they really believe he is that stupid?

Well, maybe he is. Sometimes. His own confused feelings led him into this damn mission. His aches and pains are going to remind him of that for a long while.

And yet he's not really worried about his confusion now. It cleared up fairly fast when Leonard had realized that Jim was trapped in his place, and he had turned to Spock in part anger and part fear. Spock had said, strangely, to Leonard's accusation of "you traded me for Jim?":

"No. _He's ours_."

Ours.

Simple, possessive, and effective.

And here Jim is, talking like Leonard ought to belong to him and Spock. Oh, these poor fools.

Leonard pats Jim's hand with his free one and smiles dumbly as if he only understands half of what Jim is trying to tell him about mental bonds and partnerships.

They don't know it yet but he isn't theirs. They're _his. _But he'll make them work for it just a little bit. It wouldn't do to be too easy.

Leonard's smile almost widens as he tips his head back to consider his tall Vulcan shadow, but he catches himself in time so he does not give away the game. In the distance, they all hear an excited shout of "_Captain!_"

Oh yes, tomorrow is going to be a very good day.

_-Fini_


End file.
